Under nearly all circumstances a Kaffir presents a singularly picturesque figure--except, perhaps, when squatting on the ground with his knees up to his chin--and nothing can be more grateful to an artistic eye than the aspect of a number of these splendid savages in the full panoply of all their barbaric magnificence. Their proud and noble port, their dusky bodies set off with beads and other brilliant ornaments, and the uncommon grace and agility that they display when going through the fierce mimicry of a fight which constitutes their war dances, are a delight to the eye of an artist. Unfortunately, his nose is affected in a different manner. The Kaffirs of all ages and both sexes will persist in copiously anointing themselves with grease. Almost any sort of grease would soon become rancid in that country; but, as the Kaffirs are not at all particular about the sort of grease which they use, provided that it _is_ grease, they exhale a very powerful and very disagreeable odor. Kaffirs are charming savages, but it is always as well to keep to the windward of them, at all events until the nostrils have become accustomed to their odor. This peculiar scent is as adhesive as it is powerful, and, even after a Kaffir has laid aside his dress, any article of it will be nearly as strongly scented as the owner. Some time ago, while I was looking over a very fine collection of savage implements and dress, some articles of apparel were exhibited labelled with tickets that could not possibly have belonged to them. The owner said that he suspected them to be African, and asked my opinion, which was unhesitatingly given, the odor having betrayed their real country as soon as they were brought within range of scent. [Illustration: (1.) YOUNG KAFFIR IN FULL DRESS. (See page 41.)] [Illustration: (2.) GIRL IN DANCING DRESS. (See page 53.)]